Degrees of Freedom
by plecostomus-of-justice
Summary: Inspired by some other recently published stories, a little experiment with Michael Lee's future, what changed his life, what happened afterwards? Contains spoilers!
1. Chapter 1

A small wander round the post Factory world of STN – spoilers!

Don't own it – write to show my appreciation of it

Degrees of Freedom

_Flame always Burning_

It was maybe the worst two weeks of the entire ordeal. After the fall of the Factory, after the desperate escape, after crawling for what felt like miles with dust in his throat and his lungs burning. After dragging his friend with him, after being surrounded by armed men for the second time in his life. After finding the best in himself, he was forced to come to terms with the worst around him.

She was gone. That much was certain. Gone, and Him with her. Amon; her killer, her saviour, her Hunter, her guard, her Sun God. Leaving him behind, wherever they had gone. But that was no surprise. Michael knew he could not have saved her from Solomon's demons. He could not kill, he did not know how. Well, that was not strictly true, he knew how, he knew the theory of it, how to aim, how to shoot, he just did not think he could do it. Not for real anyway, not in cold blood. He was sure they would be OK, after all, Amon knew how to protect, and Michael, well he had ways and means, put into operation as soon as he returned to his computer, as soon as it was known who was missing.

"They are dead. I'm sure they are. After all, no-one saw them leave, and how could they have possibly survived something like that?" Doujima almost shouted at the Chief

"After all, we all left differently and no-one saw a thing. There has been no trace of them across the city, I'm sure we would have heard" Karasuma glanced over at Michael

"Has there been any sighting?"

"No, Miss. Karasuma, nothing on any of the systems, nothing from the police"

It was not a complete lie, after all, there had been no sightings. How much that was fact and how much was Michael's "precautions" removing any trace of the couple, however, was open to conjecture.

"So what do you think?" Karasuma again addressed the hacker

"I think they're probably dead. The explosion was so severe and..." he trailed off

That was a barefaced lie. He believed from the bottom of his heart that they were not dead. He felt it, he had been closer to Robin than any of the others, even Him. Michael had seen Robin exposed, as she poured her heartfelt fear and grief out to him, with only a stone wall separating them. He felt a connection to her, very deep down inside his soul, in a place he seldom acknowledged. He was so sure that there would be some feeling if she were truly dead. If she was not dead, however, she was certainly still wanted, and exposure would mean death if death had not already come. So, as with so many other things, he kept his counsel, not wanting to inadvertently expose the fugitives.

There was also the matter of the letter, sitting on Robin's old desk when he returned after the incident. Where it came from, he had no idea. Inside a lovely think, expensive envelope had been a small scrap of notepaper with a message scrawled on it

"psalmus David Dominus reget me et nihil mihi deerit

in loco pascuae ibi me conlocavit super aquam refectionis educavit me

animam meam convertit deduxit me super semitas iustitiae propter nomen suum

nam et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis non timebo mala quoniam tu mecum es virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa me consolata sunt

parasti in conspectu meo mensam adversus eos qui tribulant me inpinguasti in oleo caput meum et calix meus inebrians quam praeclarus est

et misericordia tua subsequitur me omnibus diebus vitae meae et ut inhabitem in domo Domini in longitudinem dierum

Flame always burning"

The fourth verse had been sloppily underlined.

It took Michael the whole two weeks to establish what the note meant in English. He was definitely slipping, distracted by events, by unwelcome thoughts. What would become of him now that Zaizen was really gone? He had fallen back into his old life once every STNJ member had been delivered back to Raven's Flat after the incident. But now that life was even more hollow and meaningless than it had been before. His old memories, dulled by years of imprisonment and virtual reality, had been triggered again by stepping outside. Maybe it was his way of processing the trauma of the Factory, or maybe his brain was just torturing him, but whatever, when he had flashbacks, they were flashbacks of the outside. Not the guns, the shouting, the fear, the men. No, instead he heard distant birdsong, sweet and clear over the bass roar of collapsing masonry. Or smelt the smell of trees and grass, pungent above the stench of burning. Worse was the vivid sense of the fresh air on his skin, the gentle caress of the wind over his dust-caked face. He was sure he had not felt those sensations at the time, but maybe he was still working through what he had felt. One thing was certain, it was torture. Not knowing what was going to happen to him, wondering whether he had done enough to gain his freedom or whether he had done too much, making it easier for them to keep him, use him, than to take a risk and release him.

The feelings building inside him, his inability to sleep, his anger and fear, burst free eventually. Unable to take the pent up energy any more, he let loose like a summer storm, fist pounding on his desk so hard he heard plastic crack and felt pain shoot up his arm. He was just about to follow it up with a mug through his monitor, he had even picked the mug up, when a bleep from the computer distracted him, breaking his mood as quickly as it had built. His translator algorithm, processing the message through thousands of Roman alphabet languages, searching for matches. He had almost forgotten about it, it had taken so long. But there, line by line, the cursor was printing results

"MATCH FOUND

COMMENCING OUTPUT...

the lord is my shepherd i shall not want he makes me lie down in green pastures he leads me beside still waters he restores my soul he leads me in paths of righteousness for his names sake even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death i will fear no evil for you are with me your rod and your staff they comfort me you prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies you anoint my head with oil my cup overflows surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the lord forever.

PROCESS COMPLETE

1209689 seconds

parameters LATIN-English

output saved to c:\docume1\HTD\mydoc1\trnsltr\output1.txt

PERFORM NEW PROCESS Y/N"

Latin! Of course. That was why it had taken so long, every Roman alphabet language has Latin roots, and he had specified modern languages first, assuming deep down that the language was Italian. He stared at output for a while, trying to make sense of it. Again, as though hit by a thunderbolt, inspiration struck, a distant memory stirred and he began scrolling through the file, rearranging and punctuating as he went

"the lord is my shepherd i shall not want

he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters

he restores my soul he leads me in paths of righteousness for his names sake.

even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death i will fear no evil for you are with me your rod and your staff they comfort me 

you prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

you anoint my head with oil my cup overflows

surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the lord forever."

He was now so sure it was a message from Robin, that she had walked through the valley of the shadow of death and had come out the other side. Of course, there was no proof, but something had brought this message, it had some relevance. He hid it from the others, no point aggravating healing wounds and risking safety. He read it through one more time, before settling down to check his procedures, to ensure that the safeguards were still in place.

As the status screen came up green, he heard footsteps in front of his desk

"Michael, please come with me"

Glancing up, Michael saw the bald head of the Chief looking down at him. The face below the shining scalp was solemn, and Michael was certain that a decision regarding his future had been made. Rising slowly, he took one last look at the verse

"even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death i will fear no evil"

That was from Robin for him, he was sure. Whatever happened now, he had done his best by her and that was all that mattered.

He walked forwards into the office in the corner, and took a seat meekly, calming his fluttering nerves.


	2. Chapter 2

_Out_

"Michael, you have been one of the most loyal staff I have ever had. You have proved yourself time and time again, going far beyond what anyone could have expected of you or asked of you. But, as I said before, we were at a crossroads, we made a decision, took a path. Now we are in a unique situation. So I have made a decision. I will lift the collar. Hattori has found you a small apartment not too far away, the STNJ will pay your rent for one month, so you can take some time if you want. In that time, we will also sort out a regular salary if you want to continue working here. I know this has not been easy, I hope that this will help. If you pack your things up, Hattori and Sakaki will help you move today. Any questions?"

Michael shrugged, shell shocked. The only thing he could think of was

"can I take my laptop with me?"

Kosaka looked vaguely surprised. His face betrayed his "is that all you care about?" thought, but he nodded

"Yes, that shouldn't be a problem. Now, you've got lots to get on with. Dismissed"

Michael rose to leave, his mind reeling. Freedom, a place to live, a choice. More than he had expected, everything he had dreamt of, everything he was terrified of

In his small room, he began packing his few possessions into spare carrier bags. The laptop, his clothes, his small DVD collection, a couple of posters, his copy of the Hacker's Manifesto. Finally, he bundled his collection of CD's, source code for his own projects and his few books, then, reaching up to the wall, he took the note. It was framed in a cheap click frame, one of those ones that holds certificates, that had been lying around a storeroom. He wrapped it carefully in a t shirt and stuffed it in his bag.

When Hattori and Sakaki came to help him, they were both slightly horrified to see his possessions, everything he had accumulated over nearly three years, bundled into four small carrier bags. Silently, though, Sakaki gathered up two, leaving Michael to take the others whilst Hattori led the way to the car park. He drove a short way before stopping

"here we are" he chirped cheerfully.

Michael and Sakaki dutifully climbed out of the battered old automobile, grabbing the bags as Hattori let them into the block. Four flights of stairs later and they stood outside a domestic door, in a corridor lined with identical doors. Only the different numbers distinguished them from each other. Producing another key, Hattori opened the door, letting the three into a sparse one room apartment with a futon in one corner, a kitchen area in another and a TV on a desk by a grimy window. The clerk shrugged apologetically, but handed the keys over with a smile

"welcome home" he said, edging towards the front door. Sakaki followed, touching Michael on the shoulder

"Congratulations" he smiled. He was genuinely pleased to see his friend, the man who saved his life, embarking on a new life himself. Had he looked up at his friend's face, he would have seen a different story, seen fear, apprehension and unwillingness. But he did not. Sakaki was content in his dream that Michael was happy with this new order, because the alternative, that Michael was frightened of freedom, bore too many implications for him as well.

Michael was scared, however. He unpacked automatically, not knowing what else to do. He put his note back up on the wall, arranged his laptop neatly on the desk, making a mental note to dispose of the TV. He did not need it, it was just a brain-numbing distraction. He carefully arranged his CD's and source code printouts, gently stroking the dust off his one textbook, a thick computer security tome, a present from Kate. There was food already in the kitchen area, his bathroom stuff took up very little space and even though the wardrobe was small, his clothes filled less than half of it. Finally, he put some music on and stretched out on the futon, staring up at the ceiling. So this is freedom. He lay for a long time, assimilating, adjusting, thinking. Finally he fell asleep, hit by the sudden exhaustion of change.

The next day Michael awoke, disorientated and confused. Where the hell was he? The disorientation actually produced a sensation similar to seasickness, and he had to lie still until the nausea subsided and he could think straight. The events of the day before hit him suddenly and he remembered.

"now what?" he thought to himself. The thought continued as he showered, dressed and made coffee. He had the day off, that in itself was an unsettling thought, he had not had a day off in so long.

"I should be doing something" he thought, then suddenly realised. He was sitting in front of the laptop, booting it up without thinking. Yes, he could use the Internet, he could do what he had always done, it was there, right in front of him. His safe world, the world where he was powerful, where he knew his way around. His fingers danced unconsciously over keys, setting up connections, configuring hardware, relaxing. They knew this dance, the steps were familiar and they were good at it. But, one thing nagged. A promise made on a cold night, long ago. The kind of promise that results from those conversations that only happen at night, whispered, full of urgency and fear.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Fall of the Hunter – A Flashback_

The STNJ, the cold office. Michael sat, as usual, at his desk, in his chair, coding. It was freezing outside, an "abnormally cold spell" as the smug weather girl on the Internet feed seemed so pleased with herself to tell him. There was ice at the windows, made worse by the old building, so difficult to keep warm, warmth only possible where all the computers were running. The boy sat cross legged on his chair, wrapped in his blanket, slurping at hot coffee trying to keep warm, when he heard a noise.

Kate stepped out of the lift into the office

"I'm sorry, I forgot my communicator. Also, thought you might appreciate some dinner, might warm you up a bit." She shook a brightly coloured fast food bag, it rustled, releasing a mouthwatering smell.

He looked at her happily.

"Thanks" he smiled, slightly sheepish. Kate always felt a pang when she saw his face like that, always so pleased when someone did the slightest thing for him. The pang mixed with the tangle of mixed emotions and strange energy within her, and she felt that additional emotion like the last flood which breached the dam within her mind. She could feel the rush of energy spill out across her brain as it had been threatening to for days now. She desperately tried to control it, to force it back, but she could no more force it back than make the Earth stop spinning.

Michael sat, oblivious to the internal disaster she had just experienced, munching fries, feeling the warmth of the food spread out from his stomach. As he rooted around in the bag for the last few chips though, he looked up and caught sight of Kate. She was staring out the window, gazing into space, chewing her lip nervously. Completely different from the usually centred and calm hunter he knew.

"Is everything OK?" He turned and asked

Kate jumped slightly, then nodded slowly

"Michael, are you afraid of the future?"

he looked shocked at the intensity of her face, the penetrating question. Something he would usually have shrugged off, he felt obliged to answer. He thought for a second about the answer, the future seldom crossed his mind any more.

"Honestly? No. There's nothing left to be frightened of. This is just the way it is, it'll carry on this way until..." he paused, "until some other stupid kid makes a stupid mistake and I can't catch it in time"

"do you really think that's all life is, a series of mistakes? That things happen, because of mistakes? That someone can change, just because of a mistake somewhere? Do you think life is controlled by other people's mistakes?"

Kate sounded so earnest, her eyes were shining in a way they had not before, there was an energy, an aura that had not been there previously. Michael shifted nervously, but decided to answer. He had no idea where the questions came from and he wondered what was troubling Kate, but decided that honesty may be the best policy.

"Yeah. All it takes is one stupid accident, one stupid decision and you end up dead. Or worse. You make a decision to stop at a shop on the way home and bang, get caught up in a robbery or run over by a car, stupid mistake. Bad call"

"Or your parents manage to give you a gene that's gonna kill you." replied Kate in a whisper "bad mistake"

"Kate, what is going on?" asked Michael suddenly, now genuinely afraid for his colleague and friend. Genes, craft, the penny was dropping.

"I..I'm losing control" she finally blurted out. "I'm changing, I can't control it like I used to"

A distant noise echoed throughout the building, the crash of a falling filing cabinet. Michael looked up in understanding and shock.

"I have to go" Kate whispered, a trace of mania now in her voice, building like a storm.

She grabbed out for the hacker, grabbing his arms

"promise, promise me something? When you get out, I'm sure you will, I can feel it. When you get out, walk in the sun. don't let them destroy you, walk in the sun. Walk in the sun. Promise me, promise you won't let them win!" She was moving away now, towards the lift, out of the office

"I have to go now, but walk, walk in the sun. don't let them destroy you too" and with that she was gone.

He had sat for a few minutes, shell shocked. Then, suddenly he realised what he had seen. She had become a Witch, she had lost control. But he had to protect her, she was his only friend here, he began hacking the security record, desperately trying to delete every moment of her visit, to protect her.

He only knew he had failed when he was summoned to Zaizen's office

.Michael looked up, forcing himself to stop thinking, he could not bare to think of that pain, what had followed. Lying on the floor, bleeding and bruised as he finally knew that she was dead. He realised that, in his trance, in his hypnosis of memory, he had switched his computer off.

"walk in the sun"

he had promised her, her dying wish for him was to do this, to step outside. He could not betray her now. His failure had betrayed her in life, he could not betray her final wish for him as well. He pulled his trainers on, loaded up a backpack and set off into the wide blue yonder.


	4. Chapter 4

_City life, city dreams_

At first it had been incredible. The sun was warm on his face, the air smelt of things. Car exhaust and city, but it was still a smell. There were trees that rustled, and he noticed how different the rustling was when it was living things, not paper. He started walking, towards the city.

It was his first time in the city, he had never been to Tokyo before. His father worked for a company in Osaka, and the first time he had entered Tokyo had been in the back of a Factory van on his way to Raven's Flat. He wandered around the suburbs, soaking in the outside, letting it fill his bones. He was amazed by the vibrancy of life, the things he had forgotten. The smell of the city, the feeling of the sun, looking through windows into other people's lives, normal lives. Seeing people his age wandering home from school, dressed in uniforms with bags of books slung over their backs. They did not give him a second glance, though they may have been the same age, something about Michael, some aura he gave off, clearly marked him out as being different.

As he continued to walk, the sense of difference became amplified. He became more and more conscious of people actively avoiding him, crossing the road away from him. He felt more and more distant from the world, feeling like the buildings were just two-dimensional façades, like websites. He couldn't help but feel that the people around him were participating in some game, the rules of which were unknown to him. They appeared stereotypes of real people, presenting exaggerated characters, like a pantomime. He saw one person, angry, frustrated, pushing through the crowd of people on the pavement and he felt like laughing. It seemed so contrived, so artificial. But he knew that laughing was inappropriate, so he carried on walking, trying to fit in. Every loud noise made him jump, every shout and he was looking wildly for the source of the noise, expecting an attack. People moving too close to him made him nervous, people seemed to be staring at him. They were closing in, they were all around, he couldn't get away, just like before, they were penning him in.

He stopped, leaning against a signpost, gasping for breath until h began to calm. As he felt calmer and was able to think more rationally, a thought emerged which was like a sliver of ice down his spine. He just was not going to manage out here. The outside was not his world, he had become so separated from it, he did not know how to function within it. Outside he felt like a sham, like he was running a program rather than being himself. He imagined that the Internet, behind the keyboard, protected by anonymity, was the only place the true Michael would allow himself to be revealed. He had so many plans for his release, he had so many dreams, but now, as he leant on a Tokyo signpost and thought, he was not sure he could ever accomplish anything. With a heavy heart, he carried on walking, not sure what else to do. Lost and very much alone, the only thing he could think of was to keep walking. He did not even know how to get back to his new home, he had no idea what bus he needed, or even what area of the city it was in. The city looked so _different_ in real life than on the Internet, the logic was gone, and so without logic, he was lost.


	5. Chapter 5

_Saviour_

Walking along was when he heard the scream. Heart wrenching and visceral, it made him look up. For a second, he did not know what was happening. A woman was standing on the pavement opposite him, screaming an animal sound. Around her, people were frozen, in shock and horror. Someone was running, very very slowly. In the road, a tanker was moving, the driver looking horrified and terrified. Michael could not ascertain what was going on, until he saw the child, standing in the road, in front of the tanker, frozen in place.

Even years later, he would say he had no conscious idea of what happened next. It was not planned, or at least not from any logical part of his brain. The boy, athletic despite his prolonged imprisonment, ran towards the child. Jumping at the last minute, he grabbed her, pushing her to the ground, using his momentum to push her clear. The wind whistled around his face as he flew, he pulled the child close to him, holding her head as his shoulder hit the ground, skidding along as the tanker flew past them, barely two feet away. He heard his cheap jumper tear, smelt smouldering and a metallic tang as his body came to rest on the road, the child still held close. He rolled, making sure his body was between the child and the oncoming traffic. There was no conscious thought besides the importance of saving the child, shaking in his arms. He heard a horn, a screech of brakes, smelt burning rubber and brake pads and braced for the impact, content in the knowledge that the child would almost certainly survive.

He was still lying there when he felt gentle hands pulling at the child. Resisting, he opened his eyes, the blurred vision telling him his glasses were missing. He could see nothing, he felt fear. Who was the person in front of him? All he could see was a black blur, and he was not letting go until he was sure it was safe. He managed to whisper

"glasses"

though, and the person seemed to understand. As his glasses, miraculously intact, were placed over his eyes, the world swung into focus. The child's mother was standing next to him with another woman supporting her. A man was crouched in front of him, gently easing the child from his grasp. He looked up at the mother, who nodded, so he carefully let go, ordering his uncooperative fingers to release his grip. Once the child was gone, back in her mother's arms, he sat, feeling the pain begin to crawl up his arm in a fiery burst. He could see blood on the road, but the child was uninjured. He slowly rose, feeling his muscles scream in protest, and limped to the pavement.

"thank you, thank you. You saved my daughter. Thank you!" sobbed the woman. He reached forward and brushed his fingertips across the child's hair, her little face pushed into her mother's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably as the shock of the situation hit her. He nodded then, and shambled away, not knowing how to deal with the attention.

He had only walked about twenty steps when a policeman ran up to him. Michael froze instantly, thinking of the collar, of his initial capture. But instead of grabbing him, the policeman merely said

"That was a very brave thing to do, Sir. We need more citizens like you, willing to take care of those more vulnerable around them. "

"more citizens like me" Michael had to stifle a laugh. He really did not think that Japan needed any more kids giving the First Lady of the USA a Japanese criminal record before her first state visit, or people hacking into and changing police records as a matter of routine. But this cop didn't know that.

"Do you require assistance, Sir?" enquired the policeman "A hospital perhaps? You appear to be injured"

Painkillers sounded good to Michael, but he was not sure how an A&E department would react to someone showing up who was registered as having died three years previously.

No, he reached inside his pocket and found his communicator, smashed beyond recognition. That would explain the stinging pain on his thigh. He cursed silently and decided that, whilst discretion was a watchword of the STNJ, in this case, he was going to need to reveal something of it.

"Do you know Raven's Flat? I need to go there. My um father works there"

the policeman was taken aback, he knew the Flat, had heard rumours about it, but would not go there. It gave him the creeps. Still, there was something abnormal about the kid, even his appearance suggested he was not a native. He decided to oblige, maybe he would have a look at the records later, see if this strange kid was there somewhere.

Michael could see the apprehension in the policeman's eyes, he was also sure that the man would go looking in the records. He smiled crookedly, there were no records. He had made damn sure of that!

He walked through the door alone, the cop had pretty much pushed him out the car door and driven off when they arrived.

The security guard looked up, shocked to see the state the hacker was in.

"you had fun outside then, Michael" he laughed slightly

Michael nodded, still clutching his grazed shoulder. He paused before the main entrance door, suddenly realising something important.

"Umm, I don't know the code for the door. Could you let us in please?" he said in an embarrassed voice. After all, it was his algorithm that determined the new door codes every two weeks.

The guard rose, smiling, and typed the number in

"Just go up the lift to the fifth floor," he said jokily

Michael smiled slightly, directions for inside the building were not something he needed.

He wandered sheepishly into the main office, smiling crookedly at the assembled hunters

"Michael! Couldn't stay away!" Shouted Sakaki

Michael flushed slightly, then mumbled

"yeah, I've kind of hurt myself"

Sakaki wandered over

"Gah! You were only gone a day"

Karasuma appeared

"Michael! What have you done to yourself?" she said, sharply, then, seeing the boy start swaying slightly from shock and pain, switched into command mode

"Sakaki, go get the first aid kit. Doujima, come and help me" She steered the boy towards the couch sitting him down. Doujima grabbed the first aid kit off Sakaki and gently moved Karasuma out of the way.

Michael looked at her with shock as she began gently and expertly cleaning his arm

"What? You thought I was just a pretty slacker?" she laughed

"Most of that was just a front, you'd have noticed me disappearing to SOLOMON more if I had been a regular employee"

"But," Michael looked confused again

"Oh, I do like shopping" she winked at him "But I've got other talents too. There you go" she finished tying his bandage and carried the first aid kit back to its storage place.

Sakaki came over to him next

"So what did happen? Last I heard you were taking a few days off!"

"I saved a life" Michael said, with a slight tinge of wonder in his voice. "She was there, I grabbed her, I saved her life" he grunted as he moved his arm "guess I'm stiffening up though"

"I'll take you home again. You'll feel better in your own bed"

Michael nodded gratefully. He was suddenly overcome with exhaustion, shock and emotional overload from this momentous day. A plate of hot food and a bed sounded very nice right now. But sleep could bring only short term comfort. He had no idea that this small event with the child would lead to his life taking another new direction, albeit a very roundabout one.


	6. Chapter 6

_Death_

The experience of saving life had imprinted itself on the mind of Michael Lee. He thought a long time about it, questioning his life, experiencing feelings he was not used to at all. He had never really considered whether he thought that killing or experimenting on witches was right or wrong. The STNJ was just who he was working for, like he could have ended up working for the CIA or several others, there was no choice. But now he had a choice, albeit a limited one.

He cursed. It was like with horses, he thought, having spent a summer, years ago, with his horse-mad cousin in Connecticut. You keep them in their stable and they get stressed, but eventually calm down. But put them from the small stable into a little pen and they go mad, they never seem to settle. He remembered watching the behaviour of the horses, noticing that about them. He was now feeling the same way, like he could tolerate total captivity better than this façade of freedom. He wanted to save life, and he was becoming less and less sure that the STN network did this. And worse, to know that they experimented on witches like the eugenicist of the early 20th century!

The truth was, he was still leashed though, even if Kosaka allowed him to have his own apartment and to leave at night. Before the attack on Factory, Kosaka had explained how the tagging system on his collar worked, how it had a tracker in it which was activated when he crossed outside the building. It had been why Kosaka had made him climb out of Ravens Flat through a little hole where a load of pipework left the building when they had first decided to stand against Zaizen, to stop the activation. Someone could still see him, using the tracker, every time he went outside. So going outside was sweet, but it was a tainted sweetness, and it just made him realise that they would hang on to him if they could, that their Japanese hacker was too valuable.

Kosaka had at least let him try to salvage what he could of his old life. Whereas Zaizen had completely blocked him from looking at any record of his own life and the modifications made to the record after his capture, Kosaka allowed the boy free access. He discovered that he had been registered as deceased six weeks after his capture, that his parents had divorced about eight months after, that his father had returned to America and his mother had reverted to her maiden name and was untraceable. He also discovered how difficult Zaizen had made it for him to salvage anything, he would definitely struggle to rebuild any sort of identity with which to function in the outside world. That realisation was like a body-blow, hitting him on his seventeenth birthday, when the extent of Zaizen's reach had been apparent. Michael had smashed up an unused storeroom that day, so, so very angry. It was definitely true that a little freedom is worse than none at all.

But he carried on, feeling more and more disillusioned as time went on. The only thing that mattered for him now was maintaining his precautions for Robin, who was still being hunted. There had been no sight, no sound, but that was a good thing. For surely any sight or sound would be in a cold, grey morgue somewhere. The hunting continued, but there was growing suspicion in the non-SOLOMON community that something was not right. They had been inspected so many times at Ravens Flat, under the guise of government regulations, health and safety, etc. Every time, Michael had been up all hours to ensure that the building was clean, that no records of their true activity remained. Occasionally he thought about the little girl, he could still remember how her hair felt soft in his had as he protected her head, how she was so warm, so alive. He still wanted to save lives, he still wanted to change the world, only he did not know how to go about it. He would go home and look up at the handwritten psalm, still stuck on his wall, and think that those two women were the only lives he had ever managed to save, that he wanted to do so much more.

It was on his eighteenth birthday that the directional shift hit him again, that he found himself once more in the path of the storm. He was putting in another day at work before heading down to Harry's with the gang. A thick, A4 envelope had just arrived for him, bearing an Airmail sicker and Russian stamps. He opened it, out fell a selection of documents, a passport, birth certificate, NHS card, all British documents. There was an air ticket to Heathrow and a letter, typed anonymously

"Michael,

Thank you. You know what for, had we realised sooner we would have responded sooner, but we did not. We know what you have been looking for, we think these will suffice. You can make your own decision when you get there about what you wish to do next, I know you have been making some preparations in that regard.

We hope to see you again soon, one way or the other

nam et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis non timebo mala quoniam tu mecum es virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa me consolata sunt"

And so, a few days later, Michael Lee died. Again.

Officially, he jumped from the top of the office into the atrium, where he was found by Kosaka, who registered the death through SOLOMON channels and disposed of the body in the usual manner before the police became involved. Though they were all upset at the STNJ, they were not surprised. All the hunters had been saying how introverted Michael had become and how he appeared far less happy than when he had been kept there. Deep down they had all known that he would eventually be unable to take any more, and reaching a milestone in his life, like his 18th birthday, would be enough to tip him over the edge. It had happened before, to other STN's with similar arrangements. He was not the first, and would not be the last.

Nobody gave any thought to the enrolment of a Michael L Hughes on a Computer Science course in London.


	7. Chapter 7

_Rebirth_

It was of course possible that some of the old STNJ team members would have seen the broadcast on Global Netcast News. After all, in the ten years that had passed since the second death of Michael Lee many things had changed. The nature of the genetic relationship between witches was being researched, and a virus had been developed that would slow the power-development process, would stall the genes which were responsible for asserting the dominant witch characteristics over people. The STN role now was to propagate this virus as much as possible, they no longer killed, they provided a crude gene therapy. The old guard were no longer welcome, no longer required. They had all been paid off, they could live in comfort, but always restricted. They had plenty of time to watch Netcasts now, they were nothing more than relics from an age past.

Had they been watching the broadcast, in which revolutionary new atmospheric manipulation techniques were announced, techniques that could bring rain to drought-parched Africa and dry to flooded Bangladesh, they may not have noticed the man standing shyly at the back of the podium, blushing slightly as he was introduced to the world as the chief programmer and model creator. If they had seen him, then maybe the colour of his hair would have triggered an old memory. Had they looked closely at him, they would have been struck by the very unusual colour of his eyes, the amber contact lenses giving his eyes a catlike cast. Had they seen him afterwards, speaking to his computer in Japanese, a memory would have definitely stirred. But it would only be if they saw him unbuttoning his shirt, with a definite sense of relief, if they saw the familiar tag tied with chain around his neck, that they would have known. Maybe not under his own name, but Michael Lee still achieved his dream, he changed the world, if only a little bit.


End file.
